The Masked Magician
by elusivephantom
Summary: For reasons unknown to her, Christine felt a lone tear dance down her cheek. But as much as she wanted to walk away from the man who so easily destroyed something so beautiful, she could not take her eyes from his hands.
1. The Rose

The Masked Magician

The young girl turned around at hearing her name called. Her chestnut locks swinging behind her as her head whipped about in a fashion reserved for those who were caught in the act of doing something wrong. In this case, the 16 year old Christine Daae was drawing too close to the old street beggar with a funny hat, and a peculiar little monkey.

Christine cast her large brown eyes to her feet as Madame Giry chastised her for straying from the group. It seemed to Christine, that when they went on outings, she always seemed to get into some type of trouble.

They walked on, towards the local park. Christine truly did not understand why they were out in such damp weather, and going to the park no less! Her skirts were getting muddy, but she honestly did not care. These little outings were her only thing to live for it seemed any more.

As Christine turned pitiful thoughts around in her head, she hardly noticed as the group of girls had stopped and were now watching intently as a man pulled a white rabbit from a top hat. The girls made noises of awe and wonder as the strange man did little tricks. _Magic._ That's what some of them whispered, but they quickly hushed themselves as a stern look from Madame Giry sent shivers down their spines.

Christine absent mindedly nibbled on her lower lip; she did not pay any attention to her peers around her, and certainly paid no mind to the tall dark figure before her. She failed to see his eyes locking on her as he transformed a girl's handkerchief into a white dove. But she did stop her pointless mind wanderings when the man addressed her.

"And what is your name, angel?" His voice was deep and velvety. It was short and to the point but it held a hidden quality to it, making one feel as if each word he spoke had a profound purpose.

A deep blush rose to her cheeks, and with out looking him in the face she stuttered, "C-Christ-tine."

"Ah well Christine, would you like to see a magic trick?"

"Yes!" she said breathlessly. And for the first time she looked into his face.

Christine was startled at what she found there. Instead of a whole face of a stranger, she was met with a blindingly white mask covering the right side of the man's face.

_How strange_, she thought, _that a man would hide only half of his face. _She did not ponder on the mask long, nor the chiseled beauty of his visible face.

The man was slightly bent forward, as to be on her level of sight. He pulled from his pocket an old crumpled looking piece of paper. It had what looked like tea stains on it, and smudges of ink here and there.

Silently, he opened the fragile paper. Christine strained her neck to better view the paper's contents. But there was no need, for he opened it fully and showed her and the small crowd behind her.

A beautiful drawing of a rose was sketched onto the vintage scrap. The bud was the purest red one could imagine and the stem lacked even a single thorn. _Beautiful_, she thought as she gazed at it.

"Would the fair lady like a rose such as this?" his velvet voice sang to her.

Christine nodded her head, completely in awe of this man. She looked up, her eyes locking with ice blue eyes. Her breath caught and she quickly looked away.

She heard the sound before she actually saw it: the horrid sound of paper being ripped to tiny pieces. A horrified look came upon Christine's face as she watched the masked man tear the paper into bits, and finally enclosing them all in his hand.

For reasons unknown to her, Christine felt a lone tear dance down her cheek. But as much as she wanted to walk away from the man who so easily destroyed something so beautiful, she could not take her eyes from his hands.

Christine watched as he brought his gloved hands to his mouth. She watched him in a puzzled fashion as he kissed the black leather prison holding the shredded paper. And her face lit up in complete astonishment as he opened his hands and nothing, not one small bit of paper lay in his hands.

A large, masculine hand reached behind her head and fumbled in her hair, finally coming forth with the deepest red of a rose the world had ever saw. Gasps could be heard all around her, but Christine ignored them, and simply stared at the rose.

It was the exact one she had saw only moments ago on a tattered scrap of paper. Except this one held a spell like charm. The rose suddenly moved towards her, and she realized that the masked man was giving it to her.

"For the fair lady" he said with a charming smile that made all the young girls' hearts flutter.

Christine placed a timid hand around the beautiful flower. She brought it immediately to her nose and inhaled. It smelled sweeter than any she had ever smelled before.

Looking up to thank the man, Christine as well as the rest of the small crowd gasped. He was gone.

Whispers and squeals broke out amongst the group. Where could he have gone? He was just there! How did he just disappear? Why couldn't he have given that rose to some one more deserving? All of these questions buzzed around her, but Christine stared at the spot where she had last saw him.

Madame Giry scolded the girls, and told them it was time to go back to the theater. Christine stayed a moment longer, still staring. Then she turned and followed her peers silently.

She glanced back only once more, to make sure he was really gone. She felt like she was supposed to feel sad, and missing something, but instead she was uplifted. Christie had a feeling that this was not the last time she would see the Masked Magician.

Finis

What did you think? Let me know please?

Your humble author,

Elusive Phantom


	2. Masked Hero

Masked Magician Part Two

He hid in the shadows of the park. The man's cloak was closed around him, making him appear as a shadow himself. It was an eerie sight to behold.

Erik stood there silently watching as she walked away from him, following the group like an obedient servant. It sickened him how the Giry woman made those girls quake in fear. Well, he mused, it wasn't _all _of those girls he cared if she made quake; just _her_.

As Erik recalled their interaction only moments prior, he felt his heart clench and his stomach churn. She had not even paid him the least bit of attention at first, so he did the only thing he could think of to get her to look at him.

He closed his eyes and sighed, thinking of her sweet innocent blush, her windswept hair and her divine lips. Oh how he had dreamt of those lips.

What had it been now? Two years? Yes, two years, since Erik had first lay eyes on the girl. She had been merely fourteen then, even too young for him. It did not matter to him that other girls her age were being married off and some even barring children already. She was too innocent to be thought of that way.

But now? Now she was sixteen and her beauty had bloomed to an almost painful amount. He still felt heat in his loins from her being so close to him. It made him feel ill to think of something so pure and innocent in such a perverse matter, but he could not be blamed.

It was as if she had been designed to make men lose themselves, and the women to turn bitter with jealousy. Christine's womanly curves had come to her at such a young age, and it seemed that as time went by she only became ripper for the plucking.

Clutching the course clothe around him tighter, Erik set off to follow his beauty. He did this often, and knew the rout of Giry and her ballet girls. Still he walked quickly, not wanting to lose sight of her.

Less than twenty feet ahead of him and a little over a foot behind the girls stood a tall man. He inhaled deeply on his expensive cigar, and lowered his wide-brimmed hat lower over his eerie blue eyes. Tossing the cigar to the side he quickly selected his target.

Madame Giry led the girls on their normal route, going right passed a few old and abandoned buildings. Christine looked at the one closest to them only briefly, noting the doors and windows of the little shop were locked with hateful and rusted metal bars. It was such a sad and lonely sight, but Christine didn't pay much attention. She only held her rose to her chest and sighed deeply. She wondered if she could ever leave the ballet and follow her own path. Not the path set for a lowly and poor orphan.

But as the group walked on passed the lonely little shop, Christine felt a cold chill run down her back. The hairs on the back of her elegant neck stood erect. Her eyes widened in shock and her mouth opened to let out a scream as a cold hand slid its way over her mouth and a sharp blade rested against her throat.

"Make one single sound and I will be forced to slit your pretty little throat m'dear." A crisp masculine voice whispered into her hair. Christine watched the group of ballet girls, and the elder woman walk on, not noticing her absence. Deftly nodding, only slightly so not to upset the blade at her throat, Christine prayed silently that someone would save her.

Erik panicked when he no longer saw Christine following behind the ballet girls. He looked quickly throughout the girls, but not one of them had the same dark curls or had that perfect figure. _Oh God_, he thought as he ran to get closer to the girls. But as he passed a small alley way by an old and run down store, he heard a muffled cry. Stopping and turning rather sharply, Erik saw something that horrified even him.

Christine felt the rough bricks pushing into her back. The man in front of her had a smooth hand still placed over her mouth. His upper-body pushed against hers making it impossible for her to move, but he had one hand completely free.

He ran it through her curls, and gently rested it upon her cheek. "Such a pretty girl." He mused aloud, causing Christine to let out a slight whimper.

"Hush, we wouldn't want to have to get the knife back out, now would we?" Christine shook her head as much as she could, and then closed her eyes. This was simply too much for a 16 year old girl to handle. But Christine didn't have long to ponder all the "whys" rushing through her head.

Dark lashes popped open suddenly when a cold air rushed under her skirt, quickly followed by the same smooth hands that were covering her mouth. Christine cried out when the large hand slid up her thigh, taking her skirt with it, and reached what was considered the most sacred place on a woman.

"Shut up!" the man said harshly, his tone changing from a soothing whisper to a harsh and demanding snarl. "Don't make another sound, or I swear on my life, I will kill you!"

Christine sucked in her breath as the monster's lips descended upon her neck. Teeth nibbled at her flesh, and little licks of a disgusting tongue sent shivers of fear and disgust shooting throughout Christine's body. But quite abruptly it all stopped. The hand came out from under her skirts and the kissing ceased. Opening her eyes, Christine gasped at the sight of the monster being thrown about rather violently by an unknown savior.

She watched in horror as the men clashed fists. It was truly an abhorrent sight, but she could not seem to find her voice to beg for them to stop, or to scream for help. In fact Christine couldn't seem to find her breath either. Feeling abnormally heavy, Christine stumbled while desperately trying to keep a hold of the brick wall.

Erik had flung himself at the man assaulting his Christine. In a mad flash of colors, Erik ripped the man from her and started beating him. He couldn't even think properly for the fury he felt was over-riding his logical thought.

After giving and receiving some serious blows, both men heard a faint cry and a loud thud as Christine fell to the ground unconscious. Erik spun around and rushed forward to help her, but the other man took this opportunity to run from a losing battle. As much as it pained Erik, he let the man run and went to Christine's side.

Picking her limp body from the filthy ground of the alleyway, Erik held her body close to his. Thinking only briefly of where to take her, he decided on his personal "home" rather than the ballet house. They probably hadn't even noticed this beauty's disappearance, and had done nothing to protect her! He would have to be the one to protect her.

Without another thought, Erik maneuvered through the back ways, avoiding all who would question a masked man holding a young girl, and took the girl to the safety of his layer.

Thank you to all of those who reviewed to my story! I hope you all like this next installment! Please let me know what you think! Disclaimer: I own NOTHING of Phantom of the Opera. The only thing I own is the plot and some additional characters. But if Erik goes on sale….please let me know! ELUSIVEPHANTOM (oh and I may be getting a new account! There is no real reason why…I just feel like a "change of scenery" if you will.)


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